


Burning Low

by ideserveyou



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Ambush, Angst, Fuck Or Die, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/ideserveyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Kai are ambushed by the Picts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to trepkos for insightful beta reading once again.
> 
> This is set some time after my short fic 'Severed' and will make more sense if you've read that first.

**Clear blue sky.  
Birdsong in the trees; a mild breeze blowing from the south; the first celandines glinting golden in the wood-edges, wide open to drink in the morning sun.  
No work and no fighting to do; and my Kai riding beside me.**

 **It doesn’t get much better than this.**

 **I steal a glance – another moment of pleasure to add to today’s already generous store – and catch him doing the same. Our gazes meet, and we grin and roll our eyes at our mutual folly.  
Though his face is pale and tired, and there is still the bluish shadow of a bruise on his cheekbone where a shield-rim caught him, he looks utterly content. Our latest battle with the Saxons was a bitter struggle, but we have driven them back, at least for a while, and our land is peaceful again.**

 **Now I have a promise to keep.**

 **I glance again at him, and see his right hand on the reins, the little finger missing…**

 **It is months, now, since I rescued him from the Pictish prison. Having been so nearly parted for ever, we found the courage to acknowledge the spark between us, and to coax it into a flame. It has been slow work, not helped by the fact that in winter there is very little privacy in the longhouse, and anywhere else is bitterly cold.  
But now it is spring, and just about warm enough for bathing in the river, so we have set out on a hunting trip. At least, that’s what we have told the village. Of course Llud is not fooled, but we have spears, spare clothing, and supplies for a day or two, and are certain we can bring home at least a deer or a few rabbits to lend credence to our tale.**

 **I am looking forward to making our camp; to a brisk swim, and to drying Kai’s beautiful golden skin afterwards, and then to laying out a nice warm pile of blankets, and finally keeping my promise.  
He has been very patient, waiting for me, making do with stolen moments: the occasional chance for one of us to kneel to the other in the sleeping place or the stables. I did not want to rush this, or to risk discovery. But I know he longs for more, as do I. So I swore to him that if we both came through this latest battle unscathed, I would make him wait no longer.  
Today is the perfect opportunity; and I know the perfect place…**

 

The spear rips through the peaceful morning and buries itself in the oak tree ahead of us.

‘What the…’ Arthur’s sword flashes in the sunlight, and as I look round and draw my axe, they are on us, all around us; we must have ridden right in among them.  
Picts.  
Lots of Picts.

A sea of tattooed bodies and wild hair and grinning teeth surges around us. We fight for our lives, but we are hopelessly outnumbered. Amid the confusion, Arthur is thrown from his horse. The poor terrified beast rears, kicks, and then bolts into the forest, and Arthur is set upon and overwhelmed in moments.  
My own mount is seized by the reins and the girths and dragged to a halt.  
A dozen or more Picts lie dead. Their leader, a big hairy bastard with rippling spiral patterns on his chest, holds a knife to Arthur’s ribs and gestures at the twisted bodies.  
His meaning is clear.  
If I do not surrender, he will send Arthur to join them.

‘I am sorry,’ Arthur says, as they tie our hands and march us off towards their camp, two of them leading my horse. ‘I should have been more alert. I led you into a trap.’  
‘No matter,’ I say quietly. ‘I didn’t see them either. We’ll just have to hope your horse has the horse-sense to go home – and that Llud has the Llud-sense to follow his trail and come after us.’

 

 **I am surprised by how calm Kai seems, especially after what happened to him the last time these painted demons took him prisoner.  
He always has complete faith in Llud; but from where I’m standing, a rescue seems a slim hope. I wonder why we have not been slaughtered already.**

 **No, if we are to escape at all, it must be by our own efforts.**

 **I glance at Kai again, and my eyes burn with unshed tears. To die at the hands of our enemies, our love unfulfilled… the thought is unbearable. I must be vigilant; take advantage of any opportunity, no matter how slight.**

 **The sun is hidden behind white clouds and then behind grey, and there is a thin spatter of rain.**

 **The Picts drag us through the forest for an hour or two, until we reach their camp – a ramshackle collection of skin tents in a circle of thorny bushes. They pull us into the trampled space in the middle. We are surrounded by hostile faces; at the sound of our arrival, more men appear from out of the tents to stare at us.  
This looks bad.  
They jabber and squawk in their ugly language. Their chief grins, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth, then holds up his hand for silence.  
He cuts our bonds, but his henchmen still hold our arms fast on either side. Then he grabs Kai by the wrist and shows the crowd his right hand, with the stump where the little finger should be: the one they sent to me as bait, to lure me into a trap.**

 **As the chief raves on, the faces in the crowd take on eager expressions, like those of hungry dogs. There is a sick feeling in my belly. I need no word of this painted beast’s language to know what he is saying.**

 **He is telling the mob who we are; and asking them what he should do with us.**

 

I cast an uneasy glance at Arthur. It seems that before they kill us, they mean to make sport with us.  
Shouts come from the crowd; shouts that seem to mean: ‘Fight’, because two warriors (if such you can call them) step forward eagerly and proffer their swords and clubs. But their leader turns them down with a snarl of contempt.  
It must be clear that we are exhausted. Even if we could be made to fight, it wouldn’t be much by way of entertainment.

A shrill, eager voice cries something else, and it seems this is much more to the leader’s liking.  
From inside the band of his dirty breeches, he produces an ancient and wicked-looking stone knife, its edge notched and chipped.  
He grunts something to the two men who hold me. They rip off my shirt. The wind is cold now, and I shiver.  
The leader strokes my bare chest with the flat of the blade.  
Arthur curses, and struggles in his captors’ grip; one of them hits him in the face. His mouth begins to bleed from a tear at the corner. Our eyes meet, and I try to reassure him, but I can give neither of us much comfort.

 

I shiver again, and the Pict snicks my skin with his knife. Despite its battered appearance, it is sharp: so finely honed that at first I barely feel the cut. Then it burns, and the Pictish chief bends forward and licks the blood as it runs down my ribs. I shudder at the slimy touch. He leers, and runs his tongue lovingly over his lips.

And now my heart is thudding with fear. This is more than sport.

Without warning, my feet are kicked from under me, and I land on my knees in the mud. I can feel the cold point of the stone knife being held to the back of my neck; I dare not move.  
Another grunted order from the chief, and someone forces Arthur to kneel beside me and puts a second knife into his hand. It is much smaller than the first, just a short stone point, but still viciously sharp.  
‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur murmurs, for my ears alone. ‘They’re going to make me hurt you.’

I look up, and see that behind the fall of his hair, there are tears in his eyes. These bastards have made my Arthur weep.  
‘Do it,’ I mutter through my clenched teeth. ‘Just do it, whatever it is, if it keeps us alive. Llud will find us. Don’t leave me –’  
Someone kicks me in the back, and I fall on my face in the stagnant mud. It is cold and foul; I can barely breathe. I try to rise, but a heavy foot on my shoulder keeps me down. The chief is shouting, and then I hear Arthur say: ‘No, I will do it.’ His voice is filled with anguish.  
A bony finger runs down my back; the knife point follows hesitantly in its path, scoring a river of fiery pain.  
Three more times it stripes me. I cry out, every time; I cannot help myself.  
Then Arthur’s face is pushed against my wounds, and the spectators shout and jeer. All around me, I can see the Picts sticking their tongues out and making licking motions. My stomach heaves. Arthur is being forced to lick the blood.  
His hair trails across my back. Its soft touch is harder to bear even than the knife cuts: a bitter reminder of what might have been.

Then someone shouts something above the din: something that makes the leader cackle as though he will never stop.  
They haul me to my feet. The knife flickers at my waist, cutting my belt, and then they strip me.

I try to cover myself, but it is no use; they seize my arms and wrench them painfully behind my back, leaving me exposed for all to see. Jeers and laughter come from the crowd. Despite myself, I feel tears burning my eyes.  
‘Hold on, Kai,’ Arthur says in an undertone. I turn my head, and see him standing beside me, pale and bloodstained, gazing at me with such compassion… I have to look away again.

I am naked, and afraid, and I have no idea what warped pleasure these animals will seek to take from us next.

 

 **The guards force Kai to his hands and knees once more.  
He looks so cold; so vulnerable. One of them spits on him. Rage fills my heart. ‘Leave him alone, you bastards! Take what you want from me, but leave him –’**

 **A big hand is clamped over my mouth, silencing me.**

 **Then it is my turn to be stripped. They rip away my clothing; handle my arse and my balls with cold hard hands; pinch me and mock me, pushing me back and forth between them as though I were a playing piece in some awful game.**

 **I look around at their feral faces. What do they want?**

 **Then their leader makes a lewd gesture, and a chill falls over my heart.  
Forcing me to spill Kai’s blood was not enough.  
Somehow, they know what we are to each other, or what we might have been; and before they kill us both, they want to see it.**

 **I feel sick. How could these pigs forge such a nightmare from my dearest wish?**

 **Taking Kai for the first time. It is what I was dreaming of, but not like this. Oh, my heart. Never like this.  
I look down at his lean body, its angles and curves, streaked and splattered with blood and filth; at his big hands, splayed in the mud.**

 **I have felt those hands on my face and my nipples and my… and now, despite everything, I can feel myself stiffening there.  
This is my Kai; my love.  
But I am so ashamed. How can I feel like this, even now? How can I contemplate doing this to him?**

 

I can’t see what’s happening. Just mud and ugly bare legs. They are all shouting again: the same jeering words as when they forced Arthur’s face into my wounds. What are they doing to him? Are we both to be violated by these animals?

Something is shoved into the cleft of my arse. I recoil briefly, and then I know his touch. Arthur’s mouth and nose…

So … it will be his body that breaches mine.

I tremble. Shame makes my face hot; I am not clean. We were going to bathe in the river, this morning…  
But his tongue is seeking my entrance, and I dare not pull away for fear of what they may do to him.  
He finds the place, and pushes into me, and then I know. He is trying to make me wet, to ease his entry when the time comes. And if this is how it must be – our first time: perhaps our last – I must do my best to soften myself, to let him in, or it will hurt him too.

At least I am not alone; I hope Arthur feels the same. His touch is making me hard, even now; even like this.

I hear a moan come from my own throat.  
And then Arthur is gone.

 

 **I hear Kai moan, long and low. He is afraid.  
I cannot do this to him; not even though my heart longs for it, and so does my body.  
I pull away and look up at the Picts’ leader, but there is no mercy there. His eyes are hot and lustful, and I can see his cock pressing against his clothing.**

 **He takes his wicked stone knife and puts the point to Kai’s entrance. I need no words of his language to understand the threat he is making.**

 **Kai kneels there, head bowed, trying to keep still although his ribs are heaving, and his breath is coming in harsh gasps.**

 **My poor love.**

 **‘Arthur … please …’**

 **I know what I have to do.  
I drop to my knees behind him.**

 **This is not how I meant it to be…  
I fight down my tears, and thrust forward with my hips, showing them all my hardness, as though suddenly eager to comply; and the leader laughs, and steps back, leaving the way clear for me.**

 **I reach out, thinking to breach Kai with my fingers first; but the leader knocks my hand viciously away, making it clear, with a crude gesture, that such kindness is not what they want to see.**

 **  
Kai waits, shivering.  
I shuffle closer to him and take my prick in my hand.  
Somehow I manage to work my way inside him; somehow he manages to find it in himself to let me. He moans again as I enter him. He is tight, and not nearly wet enough. I know I have torn him a little, and the soft skin at my tip is damaged too, and burning; we move together in this shared hell, trying to make the best of it.  
But I am softening; failing him. If I cannot do this here and now, we will both be killed…**

 **I am so cold.**

 **‘Touch me,’ Kai mutters through clenched teeth.  
A Pictish guard clouts him in the face with a spear-butt.**

 **  
I reach forwards, and find to my surprise that his shaft is hard against my fingers. I wrap my hand around it, and cling on: Kai’s beloved body is the one familiar thing in this alien and hostile world. The mud and the stench and the baying enemies are all around us, but I close my eyes; try to think only of Kai, and as I do, the spark between us burns up into a blaze of sickening heat.**

 **I know that as soon as this is over, we will be killed or have some worse indignity thrust upon us, so I try to make it last, but I am overwhelmed. My cock thrusts deeper, and suddenly I am coming, whether I will or no; I cry out, and feel Kai spilling himself over my fingers.**

 **It is over.**

 **Vicious hands grab me, and drag me out of him and away.**

 **I am alone again.**

 

They pull us apart with no more care than if we were a couple of fucking dogs, and I hear Arthur sob.

A savage blow to the side of my head sends me sprawling on my back in the mud. I lie there helpless, my ears ringing; then the Pictish chieftain is looming over me again.

My gorge rises. He is sweaty and sated, and the front of his breeches is damp.  
He reaches down to where Arthur lies beside me, grips Arthur’s hair and hauls him to his knees.  
Someone in the crowd shouts something, and now the big bastard is grinning, his blackened teeth glistening wetly in the pale sunshine.  
Licking his lips, he grips my mutilated right hand by the wrist; points to the stump of my little finger.  
‘No,’ Arthur says, and my blood runs cold, for now Arthur is pleading, and Arthur never begs…  
But we both know what is coming.  
The grinning Pict licks his knife and lays the point of it to Arthur’s neck.

Then he reaches out for my left wrist.

Arthur hangs his head; he looks utterly beaten. I could weep, if I had any tears left in me; but there is just an aching void.  
My leader, my brother, my love…  
All resistance gone, he holds out his hand for the stone knife.  
He is armed, but he is helpless: now I know they have truly broken him.  
‘I’m sorry, Kai,’ he whispers, ‘so sorry…’

A horse whinnies nervously from across the yard.  
My horse.

Our eyes meet in mutual understanding.  
As one, we leap up; the knife flickers in Arthur’s hand, and the Picts’ chieftain is falling backwards, his throat pouring blood.

Before the Pictish warriors know what has happened, three of the guards lie dead; then we are racing across the yard and Arthur is raising the knife to slash through the horse’s tether. Drawing strength from I know not where, I vault into the saddle, and reach down to yank Arthur up behind me, even as I kick the horse’s flanks and yell ‘Yaaar!’

Not that I need to; the poor beast knows very well the urgency of our flight, and springs forward to leap over their makeshift palisade, knocking down the painted savages who try to bar our way.

Some try to run after us, but they are soon outpaced, and the few spears that are flung in our direction go wide of their target to clatter harmlessly among the trees.

We are free.

I should have had more faith. Arthur armed, is Arthur very dangerous. Always.

 

 **We ride until we are well out of range of the camp; then Kai slows the horse to a walk, to cool him, and finally stops in a clearing.  
I dismount stiffly and turn to help Kai down, catching him in my arms as he sways and totters.  
We hold each other for a little while, unspeaking.  
We are still naked, and plastered from head to foot with the mud and filth of the Pictish camp, and we stink. Kai is shaking with cold and shock, and so am I.  
The horse whickers; I take hold of his reins and stroke his nose, calming him; thanking him.  
The Picts have taken his saddlebags, so we have no food and no blankets; but it comes to me that we both stowed spare clothing behind our saddles, and indeed as I reach up to the horse’s rump I can feel a roll of something still held in place by the strapping. Carefully I draw it out and place it on the ground to unfold it: my chilled fingers find a cloak; a tunic; a pair of breeches.  
No fur-lined royal robes could be more precious, or more welcome.**

 **I help Kai into his clothes, and then wrap myself in the cloak. I have to help him back into the saddle too, and it is as much as I can do to haul myself up behind him.**

 **We carry on southwards; homewards, until the horse is stumbling with weariness, and it’s almost too dark to see.**

 **As I lean forward to tell Kai that I think we should stop for the night, he tenses. ‘Sshh.’  
‘What?’ I whisper.  
‘Listen…’  
My heart sinks. Faint but unmistakable, I hear the sounds of pursuit in the forest behind us; then a hound gives tongue.**


	2. Dust and Ashes

**I wait for Kai to kick the horse into a gallop, hazardous though that will be in the gathering darkness; but instead he reins it in and sits motionless.  
‘Come on,’ I hiss. ‘We need to get away.’**

 **To my surprise, he says, ‘No, we don’t.’  
‘Kai, have you taken leave of your senses?’ I reach forward to grab the reins from him.  
‘No – but yours are clearly blunted,’ he says. ‘Since when did the Picts have horses?’  
My body sags with relief as I realise he is right. Those are hoofbeats behind us.  
‘It’s Llud,’ he says, with simple certainty, and he turns the horse back the way we have come, and yells, ‘Here! Over here!’**

 **My brother is right. It is Llud, and with a substantial war party.  
I have never been so glad to see our father’s smiling face.**

 **He tells us that as soon as my white horse came home, they knew something was amiss, and set out to track him; and so they found the Pictish camp.  
‘Your clothes were lying in their filthy yard,’ Llud says tersely. ‘I knew you’d escaped because there was no sign of you two, or Kai’s horse; but the Picts were swarming and buzzing like a wasps’ nest when the queen is killed, so we stayed to exterminate the vermin before coming in search of you. We left none alive.’**

 **Kai and I share a grim smile, and Llud glances at me and raises an eyebrow. ‘Good thing I thought to pick up your gear. It’s covered in mud, but it has to be warmer than what you’re wearing at the moment.’**

 **We all laugh, as much with relief as with amusement.**

 **Then we make camp in a clearing; a fire is lit; we share a welcome meal, and I thank my warriors for coming after us, and satisfy their curiosity in as few words as I can. Llud looks anxiously at us, but he knows when not to ask too many questions. He must be able to see from Kai’s face, and very likely mine too, that the full story is not one we are minded to tell.**

 **Llud piles skins and blankets for us at a discreet distance from the others; we crawl into the middle of the pile, all filthy as we are: grateful for the warmth and the quiet.  
Kai is shivering. His hand is cold under mine; but he will not – or cannot – reach out to me for comfort.  
I am losing him. The spark is flickering and dying.  
‘What are we going to do?’ I whisper despairingly.  
‘I don’t know,’ Kai mutters. ‘What can we do? Go home. Carry on. Forget about …’  
Abruptly, he pulls himself away from me, curls up on his side, and falls asleep – or pretends to.  
I dare not reach out across the gap that separates us, nor do I have the courage to ask him just what it is he thinks we should forget. I do not want to hear him tell me that he meant more than just today’s ordeal…**

Arthur and I do not speak to each other on the ride home. There seems nothing to be said. But he talks to Llud; and soon it becomes apparent that the Pictish raiding party had reached our northern border unimpeded, through the territory that is supposedly guarded by the perpetually feuding cousins Garet and Gawain.

Arthur is furious.

We are scarcely back in the village when he announces that he will be taking a picked band of warriors and heading north again that same afternoon: with what punishment in mind, I can only guess.  
He flings on some clean clothes, and after a hasty noon-meal in the longhouse he mounts up and in a swirl of dust and anger, he is gone.

I am left behind.

Arthur leaves me behind.

I stand at the gate, wondering whether he will ever truly return to me.

Then Llud comes up beside me. ‘Arthur tells me you were injured yesterday,’ he says.  
‘Mmm?’  
‘You were hurt. Yesterday. By the Picts.’  
Yes, I was hurt. But I don’t want our father to see. I don’t want him to have to know what those animals made one of his sons do to the other, so I lie to him. ‘I’m all right.’  
Llud is doing his best to be his usual calm self, but I can tell he is anxious, and he is not fooled. ‘Let me check you over.’  
‘No.’ I pull away, and start heading back to the house. ‘It’s nothing. I’m going to bathe in the river. Then I’ll be fine.’  
‘And I’ll be a blue-eyed Saxon maiden,’ Llud says, exasperated. ‘Listen, Kai, I know you’re hurt. I don’t like to think why you won’t let me help you, but someone must. So you’d better bloody well go and see Lenni –’  
‘There’s no need –’  
‘Now,’ he snarls, his patience finally snapping. ‘Or I’ll have that tunic off you, grown warrior or no.’

I look into his face; force myself to speak calmly.  
‘At least let me bathe first. Then I will go to Lenni, I swear.’  
Llud nods, and lets me go my way.

I go down to the bathing place, plunge myself into the clear cold water and wash the mud out of my hair. My cuts begin to burn. I swim up and down until I can no longer feel the pain; until I am numb inside and out.  
Then, wrapped in a clean cloak, I go to Lenni’s hut. At least I don’t have to talk to Lenni. I close my eyes so she can’t ask me any questions, and try not to flinch as she carefully examines the stripes on my back, which are throbbing again. She spreads something over the wounds that cools and soothes them; I wish she had a salve that would do the same for my mind.  
I take myself back to the longhouse, brushing past Llud without a word, and throw myself down on my bed and pretend to sleep.

The next day, I tell Llud that the Picts tortured me for sport. I owe him that much of the truth, at least. But I cannot bear to add more, and I speak to no-one else in the village save Lenni, and then only to thank her, or to ask for more salve. I choose solitary tasks, or ride out alone to go hunting, and in the evenings I drink too much and too fast and go early to bed, shunning the night-gathering at the longhouse table.

Those painted bastards. I cannot get the stink of their camp out of my nostrils. Over and over again I wash. I scrub under my nails, I swim in the river and rub myself with a coarse cloth until my skin is sore; but still I feel dirty.

Arthur is away for six days. Six days? It seems like six lifetimes. I long for his return, and yet I fear it.  
I fear his anger: perhaps he will blame me for distracting him, for allowing us to be ambushed.  
I fear his shame: he was humiliated and abused, and I witnessed it. His pride will not be able to bear it. That must be why he has left me behind. How can he possibly want me at his side now, let alone in his bed?  
I fear above all to find out that the spark between us was extinguished for ever in the mud and slime of the Pictish yard.

I wonder what he has told Garet and Gawain…

 

 **We thunder down to the ford, and through the forest.  
None of the men dares speak to me, and I remain silent except when I must give an order.  
Those fools! Those utter fools! I am consumed by blazing rage. Their stupidity has cost me what I held most dear, and all the rest is ashes in my mouth.  
**

 **My Kai is gone away from me; gone somewhere I cannot reach him.  
**

 **If only I had acted in time.  
I should have banished Garet and his cousin to Gaul when I had the chance.  
I should have sent scouts to the northern border before going there myself.  
I should have stayed alert – fought harder – stayed in my saddle…**

 **Even though Llud has told me they razed the Pictish camp to the ground, and left the tents and the piled corpses burning, I do not want to go anywhere near it. We ride the long way round to Gawain’s village.  
I find them both there. Good. Now I will only need to say this once.  
They must know from my face that something is wrong; they look at each other in guilt and consternation.  
I fling myself from my saddle. ‘Into the longhouse, both of you. Now.’**

 **I slam the door behind me and draw my sword.  
**

 **‘How is it,’ I ask them, ‘that two summers ago my brother and I nearly killed each other to teach you a lesson, and still you have not learned?’  
‘What do you mean?’ Garet asks. ‘We gave up our feud. You know we did.’  
But his eyes do not meet mine.  
My tone is as scathing as I can make it.  
‘How is it, then, Gawain, that three score or more of Picts were moving through your territory, and I did not know of it?’  
‘Picts?’ Gawain asks, in a voice that tells me he did not know of it either.  
‘And that they were left unmolested for long enough to make a camp on my northern border, and still I did not know of it?’  
Garet looks as horrified as his cousin. I take a step towards them, raising my blade.  
‘And that they were allowed to go forth from that camp and set an ambush for me?’  
They are backed against the wall. Gawain swallows; licks his dry lips. ‘We… we had an argument,’ he says. Garet nods, and chimes in. ‘It got a bit out of hand. But it’s over now. We were about to go on a scouting mission…’  
His voice trails away into embarrassed silence.  
‘You’re too late,’ I say. ‘Llud has done your work for you. The painted ones are dead.’  
They both relax a little. ‘There won’t be any more, I swear it,’ Gawain says.  
Then he looks at my face, and falters, ‘Arthur?’  
‘You’re too late,’ I hear myself say again, as if from a great distance. ‘They had already vented their hatred on me. And on Kai…’**

 **And at the taste of Kai’s name in my mouth, something breaks inside me. I find myself weeping, loudly and savagely, and once I have started I cannot stop.  
Gawain says quietly to Garet: ‘Bar the door.’ He puts an arm round me, takes the sword from my shaking grasp and sets it on the table, and helps me to a seat.  
Garet comes back and pushes a cup of mead into my hand.**

 **I am ashamed of my weakness; but at least there are only the two of them to witness it.  
It seems hours before I can master myself sufficiently to raise my head again, and look them in the eye.  
I thank them for their kindness. They ask me no questions, and that is a kindness too.  
They look at each other meaningfully.  
Then both kneel to me, and offer me their swords.  
I refuse them. I know their shame, and they have witnessed mine. We are bound together.**

 **I can see in their eyes that this time, they will remember their lesson.**

 

I come back from the river on the evening of the seventh day, damp-haired and heavy-hearted. But as I lay my hand to the latch of the longhouse door, I hear Arthur inside, talking to Llud.  
And now I do not know what to feel; my heart is pounding in my throat at the sound of his voice.  
‘I don’t expect any more trouble from those two. Yes, I left my reinforcements with them. Eight to each village. They are to make a thorough review of the northern defences and report back to me…’  
The doorwardens are already looking at me askance, as I hesitate on the threshold, so I force myself to go in. Arthur and Llud are at the far end of the hall, standing by the table; Arthur’s cloak is over the back of his chair, and he has a mead cup in his hand.  
Llud murmurs something I do not catch, and Arthur nods solemnly.  
‘That’s a good idea. Very well. Tomorrow, then…’

At the sound of the door closing, he looks round; then comes striding to the doorway to greet me.  
We both start to speak at the same time, and both fall silent.  
Arthur draws a deep breath, and starts again. ‘It’s good to be home,’ he says.  
‘Welcome back,’ I reply.  
He cannot meet my eyes. ‘Are you… all right?’

For the past week I have not slept save fitfully, and then only to be plagued by nightmares full of leering, painted faces; I have lied to our father, and shunned his help; I have drunk far too much, and thrown up most of the meals I’ve eaten; I am still in pain, and one of the cuts on my back is festering. Worst of all, the love of my life no longer desires me. His going away is proof of that.

What can I say?

‘I’m fine. You?’  
He puts a hand on my shoulder and says in a low voice ‘Kai, you know I would not for the world have done what –’ but I shake my head and glance at Llud, so Arthur says no more.  
Abruptly, he turns on his heel and goes back to the table. I follow him. There seems nothing else I can do.

 

The evening meal is strained. All three of us converse with a frozen politeness that even a generous supply of mead and a roaring fire can’t thaw.  
Arthur starts a desultory discussion about the northern borders. Llud is leaving at first light tomorrow, to assist with the re-ordering of Garet’s and Gawain’s defences.

Is that all Arthur can think about at a time like this? It makes me sick.

I take myself off to bed as soon as I’ve finished eating. Arthur moves to follow me, but I turn a look upon him that could freeze the sun, and he sinks back into his chair.

 

 

For two days after Llud’s departure, Arthur and I are wary with each other; we go about our daily tasks, pretending to the rest of the village that nothing is amiss.

On the second night, he dismisses the company early from the longhouse table, saying that he needs his rest.  
This is not hard for them to believe. He looks pale and drawn and there are dark circles under his eyes. As they straggle out, with good wishes for his recovery, there are one or two sly smiles exchanged. It cuts me to the heart, for while our comrades seem certain that something more will happen between Arthur and myself, I am equally certain that it will not.

Arthur calls a final goodnight and bars the door behind the last of the men, and we are alone.  
My heart is pounding as he comes back to sit at the table, facing me.  
‘What are we going to do?’ he asks.


	3. Blazing

Suddenly I realise that I am angry. I drain my mead cup yet again, and set it down with a bang.

  
‘Why ask me?’ I snap. ‘Why should I know, any better than you? You were there too. You –’  
I stop short, but his eyes hold mine. Very evenly, he says, ‘Go on.’

His calmness is infuriating.

‘You were a part of it,’ I shout in his face. ‘You let them use us for their twisted pleasure. Fucked me on command – and now you ask me what we should do? As if I should know the answer?’  
Biting his lip, he says, ‘Do you blame me, then, for what they made me do?’  
‘No.’ I shake my head; it is buzzing, filled with restless demons. ‘You did what you had to do, to save both our lives. I don’t blame you for it. Nor for …’ I can hardly bear to say it; but it has to be said. ‘For not wanting me any more.’

‘I do want you,’ Arthur says.  
But I know he is lying, because he is turning his back on me; turning away.

The room is spinning, and I am swaying on my feet, the mead burning in my throat and my food lying uneasy in my belly.

And my world coming to an end.

 

The evil memories come flooding back; the fear and humiliation that I have been trying so hard to wash away in the river. The stink of the Pictish camp is in my nostrils and on my skin. I can smell my own sweat. I am not clean. Almost I can see hostile eyes watching me from the shadows outside the circle of the torchlight. My head is pounding. The fire is dead. I am alone, and afraid, and my fear and shame make me savage.

‘You don’t want me.’ I spit the words at him through clenched teeth.  
‘But I do,’ Arthur says, drawing his sleeve across his eyes and turning back to face me. He is pleading, and Arthur never pleads. ‘I do want you…’

‘Prove it,’ I snarl.

 

 **Next thing I know, Kai is ripping off his shirt, flinging it aside; then he sits down clumsily on the floor and tears off his boots, hurling them into the furthest corner of the room. There is a crash of broken crockery as one of them knocks the pitcher from the table. Kai struggles out of his breeches. ‘So you want me, do you?’ he yells, his voice raw; he gets to his hands and knees. ‘Like this? What, even like this?’**

 **I look at his lean body, its angles and curves, dappled with flickering torchlight shadows; at his big hands, splayed on the floor.  
**

 **I have felt those hands on my face and my nipples and my…  
**

 **He is so beautiful, even in his fury and his fear: offering himself to me, his body trembling. I can see the tension in his back and his thighs; and I do want him, but it shames me.  
And to take him like this, with his head bowed …**

 **I cannot.**

 **I want him, but more than anything I want to reassure him, to take away the pain, to see his taut muscles eased and his bright smile restored.**

 **I kneel beside him, and see the scars on his back. He has not yet healed. I hesitate to touch him.**

 **‘I knew it,’ he chokes. ‘I knew you didn’t want...’  
I put my hand on his shoulder then, but he flinches – recoiling from me so hard that he overbalances and falls heavily onto his side among the straw and rushes.  
He swats my outstretched hand angrily away, and rolls into a tight ball of misery. Then he buries his face in his hands and breaks into ugly, angry sobs.**

 **I have often seen my brother weep; but never like this. It makes me afraid.**

 **What have I done?**

 **‘Kai.’ I struggle to speak. ‘Kai, my love, I’m here, I won’t leave you again. Let me help you…’ But my voice is choked, and he cannot or will not hear me.**

 **He groans and heaves until it seems his anguish must tear him apart; and when the worst is over, he makes no attempt to get up or to cover himself, just lies there shivering and sniffing, smeared with tears and snot, broken and despairing.**

There is nothing left inside me. For a moment, as he knelt by me, I dared to let myself hope. But he could not bring himself to touch me in love; and I cannot bear to have him touch me for nothing more than comfort.

I expect to hear Arthur’s footsteps and then the door closing behind him; but there is silence. Slowly, I raise myself on my elbows and see him sitting on the floor beside me, with his head in his hands; his shoulders are shaking, although he makes no sound.  
Then I hear him say, half to himself, and with aching sadness: ‘I only wanted to be able to see your face…’

Is it possible I was wrong – that he feels the same fear I do?

‘You can see it now,’ I say.

A stupid, trivial remark: all I can think of. But it is enough. Arthur turns to me, and his eyes meet mine. I see no rejection there: only love, and sadness, and an aching need. Never have I been so glad to find that I was mistaken.

‘Kai…’ he whispers. ‘My heart…’

And now he is crying openly.

 

 **I let the tears fall unheeded. I know now that they will not douse the fire. Its light is showing me my path before me, and suddenly everything is clear again.**

 **This is my Kai; my love.**

 **He needs me.**

 **And this time there are no hostile onlookers to prevent me from being kind to him.**

 

 **I move closer to him and take his head onto my knees, half-fearing that he will shrink from me; to be rejected again would be unbearable…  
But he lets me stroke the damp hair back from his forehead, and dry his face with a corner of my cloak; and after a little while he says faintly ‘I’m sorry,’ and heaves a huge sigh.**

 **I am suddenly weary, as though I have been fighting some terrible enemy; as perhaps I have. I need my bed.  
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘This floor’s not going to get any softer if we sit here all night.’  
He nods, and struggles to sit up; lets me pull him to his feet and brush the straw and the dust off him. For a moment or two we stand facing each other, a little uncertainly. Then he sways, and stumbles into my arms, and I kiss the top of his head, and hold him close…  
I should never have left him alone.**

 **‘We should go to bed,’ I say.  
‘Together?’ he asks cautiously. ‘I mean – if it’s too soon –’  
I put a finger to his lips.  
He looks at me, a shy smile blossoming on his face.  
‘Together, then,’ he says.**

 **I lead him through to the sleeping place and lay him on his bed, covering his nakedness with a blanket.  
He grunts with pain, and rolls over to lie face-down; of course he does, marked as he is from shoulder to waist, by my hand. I tried not to cut too deep, but every now and again they would strike me, or my hand would waver, and the blade would dig deeper. And that first cut – the one closest to his spine – has a ragged section near the top, from before I had the measure of that wicked little stone point… Kai did not expect the pain, and he flinched and shuddered, and with every movement I tore him…  
And now although the marks either side of it have healed into white lines, with just a dry scab here and there, this one is still gaping open and an angry red.  
**

 **I feel sick to see it.  
**

 **I take refuge in practicality. There is a pot of salve on the clothes chest. ‘Is this the stuff you’ve been using?’ I ask. ‘Those cuts need some attention.’  
He nods.  
**

 **I take a deep breath, and just as I did before, I try to steady my hands, to hurt him as little as possible.**

 

 **When I am done, and Kai’s breathing has calmed, he sits up to help me undress, loosening my belt with eager fingers, pulling my tunic over my head.  
Then he draws me down onto the bed beside him, props himself on an elbow, and gazes at me as though he’s never looked at me properly before, and never wants to look at anything else again.  
**

 **His hand traces a pattern on my skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. I shiver. He pulls the blanket over both of us.  
‘I wasn’t cold,’ I say.  
He grins. ‘No, but I was. I’m warming up nicely, though…’ and he lies down beside me with his head on my shoulder.  
I don’t know where to start. I want to touch him all over, to climb inside him, to hold him so close to me that nothing could separate us.**

 **But there is something nagging at me like a splinter.  
‘Kai…’ I say, hesitantly.  
‘Mmm?’ He runs his fingers slowly through my hair.  
‘What you said… when you were angry with me…’  
‘I’m sorry I was angry,’ he murmurs, his mouth against my cheek. ‘I’m not, any more.’  
‘You were right to be – I was being an idiot, asking you for answers when I didn’t have any myself. But, Kai – when you said that I was a part of it…’  
He crushes me to him. ‘It was my fear and the mead talking, nothing more. I was wrong to say what I did. Forgive me. I don’t understand why I said it. You were not to blame.’  
‘I blamed myself none the less, and I added to your pain, by leaving you alone in such doubt…’  
‘I doubt no longer,’ he says, and kisses me on the mouth.**

 **The fire is glowing steadily again, and my heart is warm.**

 

I doubt no longer. Arthur loves me still; and is telling me so with every hesitant, careful touch. But I don’t deserve it – I feel dirty.  
I turn my head away from him.

‘Kai?’

It is so hard to find the words. Yet somehow, haltingly, I manage to begin, and to make myself keep talking, and tell him all the things he does not know about the time the Picts had me before; the jeers and the insults they cast at me; the threat to un-man me, and how I whimpered and pissed myself when they held me down and I felt the metal of the shears cold against my hand; the unspeakable pain when they cut …

And how I felt like such a coward then; and still do.

‘My heart.’ Arthur holds me as though afraid I will shatter into pieces. ‘You are no coward. You were so brave – then, and afterwards, when you had to start again, learn to fight with your left hand…’ He reaches for my right hand, touches his lips gently to the place where the little finger should be. ‘Llud said you’d been bathing over and over again, but he didn’t know why. And you thought I’d turn away…’

He buries his face in my hair, and breathes deeply, calming himself.

After a little while, he says, ‘You’re perfectly clean, you know. Apart maybe from a little dust from the hall floor.’ He lays me down on my side; props himself on an elbow; trails kisses down my neck and across my chest, and nuzzles under my arm. ‘Clean,’ he says, and rubs his cheek against my ribs and my belly. ‘And here too…’

My eyes are tight shut. I feel his lips brush over the hairs at the root of my cock; I hear him take a deep breath, and then he is slipping a hand between my knees, to open me up… his face presses in behind my balls, breathing me in, kissing me…

I writhe and struggle, and a high, panicky sound of protest escapes me. ‘No. Please. Don’t do this. Don’t.’

‘Ssshh,’ he says, swarming up the bed to lie next to me. ‘It’s all right. You’re beautiful. And you’re clean. All of you. Here...’

He holds my face between his hands, and kisses me. I try to pull away, but he persists. I have to breathe – to take in the scent of my body, now mingled with his… and to my surprise, it is pleasant and wholesome as just-baked bread.  
I heave a sigh of relief.

And now I am hard, and so is he.  
I move to roll onto my face, but he checks me with a hand on my shoulder.  
‘Please,’ he says. ‘Please, this first time, let me look at you...’  
He is close to tears again. This is not just some whim; it is vitally important to him. ‘What is it?’ I whisper. ‘Tell me.’  
A sob shakes him. ‘I couldn’t see your face. When they made me…’  
I understand now. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘They made you. You too were violated. I see that now. I’m sorry.’

His features are twisted with pain. I rest my forehead against his for a moment, then pull him close and cradle his head on my shoulder.

‘I was so afraid,’ he says. ‘Afraid that the spark we felt between us would be lost in the mud, before we had a chance to build it into a proper fire.’  
He feels as I do.  
I let go of the last of my fear, and feel something very different springing up in its place.

 

 **I know I am being selfish. His back is so sore… But I cannot bear to take him with his face turned away from me, and I do not know how else it will be possible.  
**

 **I am embarrassed by my own ignorance.  
**

 **‘How can we do this?’ I ask, stiffly.  
**

 **‘Didn’t you ever let a woman ride you? No, perhaps not…’ He smiles, but he is not mocking me. ‘Trust me,’ he says. ‘Lie down, and I’ll take care of you.’  
**

 **And he reaches under the bed for the bowl of grease we last used only ten days or so ago, when he first let me breach him with my fingers… when we first planned what we would do on our hunting trip…  
**

 **He slicks my length with unhurried pleasure, then he kneels astride me and reaches back to prepare himself; letting me watch him.  
‘Are you ready?’ he asks, his voice a low, enticing murmur.  
I nod breathlessly.  
He looks into my eyes, and lowers himself carefully onto my aching prick.**

 

At last I have Arthur where I so desperately needed him to be. This time, I know he is there of his own free will; that he wants this as much as I do.

And he has let me take the lead. I am free to stop this at any time.

Not that I would. Not for anything.

This time there is no pain for either of us.

He is looking up at me, eager and trusting. I smile at him. ‘All well?’ I ask lightly.

‘All well.’ He props himself on an elbow; reaches out to caress my thighs and my hardness. ‘This is… not hurting you?’

‘Not at all,’ I say, leaning in to his touch. ‘This is how I dreamed the first time would be, between us.’

And it is true. It is bliss. I do not have the words to describe it. So I try to show him; in my face, and with touches of my hands, and with the slow careful movements of my hips… surrounding him, enclosing him, keeping him safe and taking care of him, as I said I would …

The last time we did this, both of our lives depended on it.  
As perhaps they still do.

‘Kai,’ he gasps, and pushes deeper. His fingers stroke the tip of my prick, now wet and slippery. ‘My Kai… I’ll never leave you like that again, I promise you…’

I can’t hold back. The touch of his hand on me – it is as though he is touching my very soul. One of us groans: I think it is me. Then I am coming, and he is smiling, and I look down to see my issue seeping between his fingers. He throws his head back and I move against him, and then move with him, helping him to ride out the storm as it sweeps through him. He cries my name, and thrusts into me, and then clings to me as though he will never let me go again.

There will be no nightmares tonight.

 

 **Kai’s hair is soft against my cheek, and he is breathing deeply and evenly. Despite my weariness, I keep myself wakeful for a little while longer, to be comforted by his presence.**

 **He stirs, and murmurs; I soothe him back into sleep, feeling myself drifting away with him.**

 **I am happier than I have been in many days.**

 **The fire is burning clear and bright. And ahead of us there is clear blue sky…**


End file.
